The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 52, February, 1862 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 305 pages of information about The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 52, February, 1862.

The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 52, February, 1862 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 305 pages of information about The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 52, February, 1862.

“The agreement was accordingly made.  And certainly no happier or more hopeful human beings went to bed in all New England that night.

“I arose with the sun, went into the garden, and commenced weeding, intending to do my quota of work before breakfast, and then devote the day to reading and conversation.  I was presently joined by Shelldrake and Mallory, and between us we finished the onions and radishes, stuck the peas, and cleaned the alleys.  Perkins, after milking the cow and turning her out to pasture, assisted Mrs. Shelldrake in the kitchen.  At breakfast we were joined by Hollins, who made no excuse for his easy morning habits; nor was one expected.  I may as well tell you now, though, that his natural instincts never led him to work.  After a week, when a second crop of weeds was coming on, Mallory fell off also, and thenceforth Shelldrake and myself had the entire charge of the garden.  Perkins did the rougher work, and was always on hand when he was wanted.  Very soon, however, I noticed that he was in the habit of disappearing for two or three hours in the afternoon.

“Our meals preserved the same Spartan simplicity.  Eunice, however, carried her point in regard to the salad; for Abel, after tasting and finding it very palatable, decided that oil and vinegar might be classed in the catalogue of True Food.  Indeed, his long abstinence from piquant flavors gave him such an appetite for it, that our supply of lettuce was soon exhausted.  An embarrassing accident also favored us with the use of salt.  Perkins happening to move his knee at the moment I was dipping an onion into the blacking-box lid, our supply was knocked upon the floor.  He picked it up, and we both hoped the accident might pass unnoticed.  But Abel, stretching his long neck across the corner of the table, caught a glimpse of what was going on.

“‘What’s that?’ he asked.

“‘Oh, it’s—­it’s only,’ said I, seeking for a synonyme, ’only chloride of sodium!’

“‘Chloride of sodium! what do you do with it?’

“‘Eat it with onions,’ said I, boldly:  ’it’s a chemical substance, but I believe it is found in some plants.’

“Eunice, who knew something of chemistry, (she taught a class, though you wouldn’t think it,) grew red with suppressed fun, but the others were as ignorant as Abel Mallory himself.

“‘Let me taste it,’ said he, stretching out an onion.

“I handed him the box-lid, which still contained a portion of its contents.  He dipped the onion, bit off a piece, and chewed it gravely.

“‘Why,’ said he, turning to me, ‘it’s very much like salt.’

“Perkins burst into a spluttering yell, which discharged an onion-top he had just put between his teeth across the table; Eunice and I gave way at the same moment; and the others, catching the joke, joined us.  But while we were laughing, Abel was finishing his onion, and the result was that Salt was added to the True Food, and thereafter appeared regularly on the table.

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The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 52, February, 1862 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.